


Iscariot

by PepperPrints



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, Tokiomi and Kariya had the very same sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iscariot

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Искариот](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852929) by [WTFFate2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTFFate2017/pseuds/WTFFate2017)



> For 31_days. Prompt: no sin except stupidity.

The moonlight pouring through the stained glass painted Kariya's sunken face in a vibrant pallet of color. Left to his own devices in the church, the man began admiring his surroundings. Kirei had been watching for some time now, idly fascinated. Kariya was usually pale as a corpse, and this light gave his decaying flesh life again. He had his head tipped up towards the windows, his one good eye gazing up through the images of Christ and his disciples. He seemed awed, if not a little introspective, and Kirei's voice broke the silent reverie.

 

“Are you a religious man,” he inquired bluntly. “Matou Kariya?”

 

As if startled, Kariya jerked a little bit. His one good eye widened a little as he turned towards Kirei and then he glanced aside again, as if embarrassed. “No, not really,” he replied honestly, giving a weak, apologetic look towards Kirei. “But it's always... beautiful inside churches.”

 

It seemed like the compliment was a dodge to make up for the indirect insult, but Kariya seemed to mean the praise genuinely. Kirei nodded his head slightly, affirming, and he approached Kariya in slow strides. “If you did believe in God, I would reassure you,” he said. “Since surely by now you would believe He has abandoned you.”

 

Kariya's body noticeably stiffened, and Kirei soaked in the reaction with a repressed smile. Kariya wavered slightly, his hand clinging at his limp arm restlessly. “I don't think that,” insisted Kariya quietly, but something in his voice betrayed him. Oh, Kariya certainly felt abandoned – but Kirei figured he blamed more than God.

 

There was plenty of human flesh and blood to blame for Kariya's current condition.

 

Kirei paused a moment, considering, before he spoke again. “Whether you are a believer or not, I will offer you my service.” Kariya's ruined face looked confused, vulnerable, and Kirei continued. “You're a dying man, Matou Kariya, and the Holy Grail War puts your life at risk every day.”

 

A smile formed on Kariya's lips; it was a sad, broken expression that was utterly devoid of any joy. Kirei had seen that expression on his wife many times. “Are you offering me my last rights?” Kariya asked, as if joking, but the tension in his body gave his fear away.

 

“That idea has merit,” conceded Kirei, “but I was thinking of confession.”

 

Kariya looked uneasy, giving a slight stumble when he tried to move – the limp made it hard to tell if he was attempting to step toward or away from Kirei. “I...” he began tentatively, and Kirei spoke again while the man fumbled for his words.

 

“I can absolve you.”

 

The desperate look that consumed Kariya's face hit Kirei low in his gut. It was nothing like the forced reassurance in his smile, or the dull pain that constantly ate at him. This was true, honest vulnerability. Kariya knew he was doomed; he knew he would die – but he did not know where he would go in the afterlife. He was afraid, like all men were.

 

“I don't really know how,” admitted Kariya nervously, which Kirei waved aside.

 

“No matter,” he told him simply. “Come.”

 

Kirei went on ahead, waiting as Kariya struggled after him. The confessional wasn't far from where they stood before, but Kariya's limping stride made everything difficult. Kirei idly wondered how much every step must have hurt him. One half of his body was completely useless to him. The agony must have been overwhelming.

 

Perfect.

 

He opened the door for Kariya, inviting him into his side of the confessional. Kariya looked like he might protest one more time, then he finally relented, stumbling inside. Closing the door behind him, Kirei went to his own half and made himself comfortable.

 

Silence hung between them for several seconds before Kariya found his voice. “I really don't know what I'm supposed to say,” he apologized. “I...” His voice choked briefly, then in a quieter tone, he continued. “Forgive me, father?”

 

With how his voice broke, it sounded like a plea. It made Kirei's eyes flutter and he smiled now that Kariya could not see it. Kirei debated guiding Kariya through the proper words and guidelines, but there was no need. Kariya was obviously on edge, uncomfortable, and if Kirei wanted him to speak, he had to coax the words out of him far more gently.

 

“Relax, Kariya,” he urged. “Reflect; say what comes to mind.”

 

Kariya laughed a little, the sound nervous and utterly without humor. “I don't know,” he said. “I – a lot of things, I guess. We're in a war, for one thing.”

 

Kirei took a moment, considering the most blatant options, before he recited plainly. “The fourth commandment: honor thy mother and thy father,” he offered, which made Kariya laugh again. Kirei would not even mention coveting thy neighbor's wife.

 

“That monster,” he scoffed, his levity still obviously forced. “I think even God would understand that one – sorry if that's blasphemy, father.” Kariya took a pause then, and he winced somewhat. “Can you confess a sin before it happens?”

 

Kirei smirked a bit, already entirely aware of what Kariya meant. “Your intent does change the weight of your sin,” he replied. “Transgressions made in a moment of weakness are very different than one premeditated, made in full conscience.”

 

Kirei could hear Kariya squirm, his clothes rustling, and his voice was lower, rasping, when he responded. “Tokiomi,” he said firmly. “I'm going to kill him.”

 

Tokiomi... Kirei leaned back and reflected. That first night, when it had been decided that Kirei would leave (or so Tokiomi thought), his master had looked at him with such genuine regret in his expression.

 

“You are such a promising student,” he sighed, laying his hand on Kirei's shoulder. “Don't doubt for a moment that I have every faith in you.”

 

Tohsaka Tokiomi speaking of faith... there was something. Kirei could not say what made him do it, perhaps he had been conversing too much with Gilgamesh, but he acted on sheer instinct. There had been a scene on his mind from the very second that this betrayal came into his mind.

 

He leaned forward and touched their lips together. The contact was mild, almost chaste if not for how long it lingered. Tokiomi was still, as if startled, but he did not pull away; he let Kirei draw back in his own time, and he smiled at his student when the kiss broke. His hand squeezed Kirei's shoulder once more before withdrawing.

 

“You should begin packing.”

 

Kirei betrayed him with a kiss, like Judas Iscariot, and Tokiomi still did not foresee a single thing – and neither did Kariya.

 

In the end, Tokiomi and Kariya had the very same sin: their own hopeless stupidity.

 

Kirei rose up suddenly. He gave no warning, nor any courtesy as he left his side of the confessional and invaded Kariya's instead. Kariya jumped, his good eye wide, and he struggled where he sat, trying to squirm away without having any space to do so.

 

“Wh-what?” he started, and Kirei cut him off.

 

“I absolve you,” he told him lowly and, like with Tokiomi before him, he bent down to press their lips together.


End file.
